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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22883074">Trapped in a cage and surrendered too soon</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ideani/pseuds/ideani'>ideani</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Mr. Robot (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dubious Consent, M/M, Mr. Robot's fucked up way of caring, Season/Series 04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 10:13:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>851</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22883074</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ideani/pseuds/ideani</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Letting people in doesn’t have to hurt, but it can. And even when it does hurt, it doesn’t <i>only</i> have to hurt.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Elliot Alderson &amp; Mr. Robot, Elliot Alderson/Tyrell Wellick</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>52</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Trapped in a cage and surrendered too soon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is set right after Elliot fucks Olivia over. Tyrell is very much alive, and Elliot has no idea what the hell is going on.</p><p>The title is taken from "I Remember Nothing" by Joy Division.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He couldn’t move.</p><p>A heavy weight on top of him, holding him down. A body, he recognized. A clammy, sweaty body plastered to his back.</p><p>Warmth.</p><p>An almost suffocating temperature. A hot breath against the back of his neck. The sheets underneath him were damp, probably from his own sweat.</p><p>His consciousness was coming back to him in waves. One by one, his senses were returning, and his surroundings turned slowly into a cognitively recognizable reality.</p><p>Movement.</p><p>The body atop of him was rocking against him. Into him, he realized. The intrusion felt foreign and displaced; he tightened around it, which induced a groan from above him. “Jesus Christ, Elliot. I can’t move when you tighten up like that.”</p><p>He would recognize that voice anywhere; its clarity and foreign intonation. It belonged to Tyrell Wellick. Supposedly dead Tyrell Wellick; Elliot hadn’t witnessed his death but considering the circumstances they had parted ways in, it wasn’t a long shot to assume that he was dead.</p><p>How much time had he lost? The last thing he remembered was arguing with Mr. Robot after leaving Olivia’s apartment. Mr. Robot had been all pissed about Elliot "crossing a line". Mr. Robot had clearly taken over after that, but the question was for what reason and for how long.</p><p>Slowly, he opened his eyes. The room he was in was dimly lit, and it took a few moments for his eyes to adjust. One look at his computer screen was all he needed to realize that he was in his own apartment. But why was Tyrell in his apartment?</p><p>No. What he was even more anxious to know about than the reason for Tyrell’s current whereabouts was why he was doing <em>this</em> with Tyrell. What could Mr. Robot possibly have done for things to have come to this?</p><p>He couldn’t tell which would be worse: letting this continue or having to confront this fucked up reality by telling Tyrell to stop. Perhaps if he shut his eyes, he could pretend that this wasn’t actually happening. By tuning out the real world, he could close his eyes and wish to be somewhere else, doing something else. But he wasn’t a kid anymore; wishing for the impossible seemed pointless when Angela wasn’t there to tell him that everything was going to be okay. He knew that letting this go on was just a way of prolonging the inevitable.</p><p>He had to stop this. He could swear that he was going to; he even got as far as to the point where he had opened his mouth, tensed his vocal cords and was prepared to produce a statement of protest. But then a particularly hard and well-aimed thrust caused his mind to go blank, and the words he had prepared to utter died on his lips. Instead, he let out a choked grunt. By instinct, he curved his back just a little, and grinded his backside to Tyrell’s hips, meeting his thrusts.</p><p>Usually Elliot hated it when Mr. Robot took completely over, but in this particular case he would have preferred not having to endure this. He couldn’t help but wonder why he had to get control over his body in a situation like this. Or did Mr. Robot <em>let </em>him be in control, to feel this, just to fuck with him?</p><p>Because if he did, it was working. To his humiliation, his own cock was leaking against the sheets while Tyrell was thrusting into him harder. He had his face pressed to his pillow which was dampened by his own drool. His own breaths sounded embarrassingly harsh and loud to his ears. He buried his face deeper into the pillow, pathetically attempting to hide from the world.</p><p>Although it was getting harder to focus, Elliot tried to make some sense of the situation. Was Mr. Robot trying to prove a point? He had a feeling that this had to do with how things ended with Olivia. He knew that Mr. Robot wanted him to let people in, but Elliot was fucking done with that. He almost wanted to confront Mr. Robot about it. But not while he was in a state like this, all wrecked and so close to release.</p><p>By now Tyrell was constantly aiming his thrusts at that one good spot, and Elliot had to bite the pillow to stop himself from making any noises.</p><p>This was way beyond fucked up. At this point, even if he would have wanted to, Elliot knew that he couldn’t stop Tyrell anymore, not when he was so close to coming. It felt too fucking awful and good to do anything about it. Perhaps Mr. Robot was right; perhaps human touch was what he needed, even if it hurt this fucking bad.</p><p>“Elliot,” Tyrell panted as he had his lips pressed against Elliot’s scalp at the back of his head where his hair was shorter. It sounded so desperate, like he genuinely needed Elliot. Nobody had ever said Elliot’s name like that and in that moment it just fucking broke him and he was coming, he was–</p><p>And then, nothing.</p>
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